


Fearful Symmetry

by emynn (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-14
Updated: 2009-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/emynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was comfortable living in his little cottage with 22 animals. Then a little black rabbit arrived and changed everything ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fearful Symmetry

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2009 Snarry Swap.

There were times when Harry wondered if perhaps he should face his fears, abandon his quaint cottage hidden away in the depth of the Forbidden Forest, walk back to Hogwarts, grandly announce his reappearance after five years, and join in sipping champagne and dancing at all the Ministry balls there'd undoubtedly be as his Order of Merlin, First Class, sparkled in the light of the crystal chandeliers.

Those thoughts usually occurred when he was cleaning up cat vomit.

"Vincent, how many times do I have to tell you?" he asked exasperatedly as he wiped up the last of the mess. "Stop eating the grass!"

Vincent apparently didn't care so much. He lazily arched his back as he brushed against Harry's legs and sauntered off through the catdoor, probably to eat some weeds as an after-dinner mint.

Harry sighed as he threw the rag away in disgust. Vincent's habit of eating foods that inevitably wound up regurgitated on the exact same spot on the kitchen floor had been so frequent that using a spell to clean up the mess had resulted in a discoloring of the wood. Such were the trials and tribulations of being the owner (or, at least landlord) to – he did a quick count in his head – twenty-two animals.

And it looked like there would be one more coming. Harry glanced over at Charon's food bowl, which had stayed at the same level for three days. Harry idly began wondering if he should begin preparing another dog bed or start to expand the fence around the pasture.

He couldn't say how he had become surrounded by animals. There he had been sitting just outside his little cottage in the middle of nowhere, aimlessly pondering the meaning of his pitiful existence as he snapped twigs in his hands, when a stunning unicorn had appeared seemingly out of thin air. He had seen unicorns before, but never one this close – hadn't Professor Kettleburn warned him years ago how the beautiful creatures were distrustful of males? But he doubted even if he had been able to get close enough to stroke one of those unicorns' head that he would have thought they were anywhere near as beautiful as this one. She seemed to glow in the darkness, her sleek fur shimmering in the night, her mane glistening like spun silver, her pale eyes haunting and forlorn. Even the gaping wound in her side glimmered like a stream of garnets. Harry had been afraid to leave her alone as he ran back to the house to grab some of the healing potions he kept on hand, but she had remained standing there, as serene as ever, when he returned. He still remembered the first feel of her soft hide as he reached up to rub the ointment on her wound. But more than that, he remembered the sense of utter sadness and strange peace that filled his body as he realized the lovely creature was blind.

He sat with Helen for the rest of the night, crying occasionally, sometimes marveling at how she seemed to be crying as well, but mostly basking in the company of the first living creature he had seen in six months. When he woke the next morning, his skin damp from the morning dew decorating the grass, Helen was gone. But there wasn't much time to mourn the loss. That afternoon Charon had arrived, and as Harry gingerly applied healing salves to the bloodhound's burns and scrapes, he felt the soft nuzzle of the unicorn's snout against his neck. He had laughed – his first laugh in so long – and returned to his ministrations. The next week, once his wounds had healed, Charon disappeared for a few days, only to return with Vincent, whose head was still bloody from where his left ear had once been. Since then, Harry had acquired a menagerie of animals, all with some injury or vulnerability, but all simply yearning for company. Harry supposed, with his (most likely inferior) potions and food and lodgings, he was taking care of the animals, but really, they were taking care of him.

A loud howl interrupted Harry from his musings. Well, Charon was home. And most likely irritated and slightly in pain, judging by the noises he was making. Still, despite his rather frightening appearance, Charon was quite the pansy, and Harry found himself more excited than concerned as he followed the sound out to the front hall to see who his new house guest would be.

He found Charon sulking in the corner, trying as best as possible to hide his gangly body behind the umbrella stand. Harry looked around in puzzlement. A few of his pets had gathered around – Ludwig the deaf phoenix, Beelzebub the four-eared tabby, and Phaethon the fox had prime seats for the spectacle – but as far as he could see, there were no newcomers. Then Charon suddenly lunged forward and pounced at something in the opposite corner. After a brief scuffle, during which Harry tried his best to hold back the furry audience, Charon emerged victorious, and trotted over to his master. His mouth was suspiciously bulging.

"Charon," said Harry in his best I'm-your-master-obey-me tone. "Drop him."

Charon sat down and gazed up at Harry. He could see the conflict in his eyes – turn over his prize to his master, as was his duty, or continue torturing whatever animal was apparently still putting up quite the fight in his mouth.

Responsibility won out – most likely because the mystery creature was causing Charon a good deal of pain and distress, if his whimpers and watery eyes were any indication – but Harry wouldn't hold that against him. With a wheeze of disgust, Charon spat the creature out onto the floor.

It took a minute for Harry to figure out what the animal was. It rather looked like a slightly oversized black furry bocce ball. It was only when the furball stretched and then leaped forward to snip at Charon's heels did Harry realize he had a violent rabbit on his hands.

"Hey there, none of that," Harry said as he knelt down next to it. He cautiously moved his hand until it was a few inches away from the rabbit. The rabbit only glared – if a rabbit could glare – at him and imperiously stuck his twitching nose up in the air. The slight action revealed two tiny white spots, the only sign of color in his otherwise all black coat. Deciding to take a chance, Harry moved to pick up the rabbit. It nipped at him, but allowed the gesture.

"You’re a skinny little thing, aren't you?" That was an understatement. The rabbit was more bone than fluff, and couldn't weigh more than a pound or two. Certainly it was small-boned, but that was no excuse for its malnourishment. Harry felt the familiar indignation arise that an innocent animal was suffering.

"There, there, we'll take care of you. Don’t worry."

The rabbit kicked a few times but then settled back into Harry's arms with an almost palpable sense of resignation. Ignoring the indignant looks on the other animals' faces, Harry smiled.

~*~

Two hours later, Harry held a clean, fluffy, but definitely malnourished rabbit in his hands. As he always did whenever a new animal came into the house, Harry worried he wouldn't survive, but if he had observed anything over the past two hours, it was that this little ball of fuzz was a fighter. He kicked when Harry held him to brush him and snapped at his fingers when Harry tried to tend to his wounds. A few times Harry caught him gnawing at the door and hardwood floors in an attempt to escape. But now the poor thing was flat worn out, and was, however reluctantly, resting in Harry’s arms as he tried to feed him baby food with a small syringe. It was a process he had perfected when Niobe had arrived with no teeth to chew her food, and it seemed to be working equally well with this rabbit as well.

Charon skulked over and gave the rabbit a haughty sniff. Clearly he had not forgotten the earlier incident.

"He's just scared, Charon," Harry said soothingly. "I bet he's been through a lot." The rabbit gave Harry a half-hearted nip. "Don't take it too personally. It’s nothing to be ashamed of," he said with a chuckle.

Charon didn't seem inclined toward forgiveness, and with one last arrogant whiff, marched off to sit with the other pets huddled around the fireplace. Harry smiled and turned his attention back to the newest addition to the family. The rabbit seemed to be studying him just as intently, those black eyes deep and impenetrable. This wasn't the skittish, warm gaze of Niobe, but a calm, calculating look that seemed to pierce the bottom of Harry’s soul. It was like the damn thing was performing Legilimency. Harry laughed. His animals were certainly special, and he loved them all like a proud father, but he highly doubted they were that skilled.

"No offense to you, of course," Harry said, rubbing the fuzz on top of the rabbit's head that just wouldn't set down. His long ears fell at 45 degree angles alongside his apple-shaped head, giving him the appearance of a furry, chubby-cheeked child wearing a military helmet. "Quite the little general, aren't you?" If anything, the rabbit's gaze grew even more condescending. "General Fluffytail. Ouch! Okay, how about just General?" No reaction. Harry took that as a good sign. "Excellent. Well, General, it's time for our nightly tradition."

Harry summoned a book from the next room. Although he didn't include the household's animals in the spell, they seemed affected by it as well. In less than a minute, Harry had his entire household of animals – unicorn, phoenix, and all – seated around him as he opened the book and began to read aloud.

"Hephaestus, the god of smiths and fire, was the son of Zeus and Hera. He was a hard-working, peace-loving god and was very fond of his mother. Often he tried to soothe her temper with gentle words. Once he had even dared to step between his quarreling parents. He sided with Hera, and that made Zeus so angry that he seized his son by the legs and flung him out of Olympus."

General stood on his hind legs and rested his head on Harry's arm as to better see the page. It took all of Harry's will-power not to laugh.

~*~

A week later, General was doing remarkably well. While he could still stand to gain a few more ounces, he was no longer emaciated. His coat was sleek and shiny, and his wounds were mostly healed. Harry had continued giving him a healing potion just to be safe, but it looked as though he would make a full recovery. Harry felt a twinge of worry that General would leave once he was completely healthy. Grumpy though General may be, Harry was very attached to him already. And even though none of his animals had ever left the house for more than a few days, Harry couldn't quell the fear that this one would be the first.

Harry looked down at the floor, where General and Niobe were playing together. Well, perhaps playing wasn't the right word. Niobe, ever the mother, was licking her tongue over General's fur, going especially vigorously behind his ears. General sat huffed in a ball, his fur fluffed out even more than usual, the very image of a disgruntled army rabbit.

Deciding some time with Niobe could only build General's character, Harry left the room and headed to the makeshift lab he had set up once it had become clear he was somehow fated to take care of a flock of injured animals. Sometimes when he needed a laugh, Harry imagined Snape discovering what he had done with his guest bedroom. If the man weren't dead already, Harry was certain he would be then from cardiac arrest.

His stocks weren't dire yet, but Harry liked to always be prepared for emergencies or surprise arrivals, so he always made it a habit to make sure he had a good supply of standard healing potions on hand. He had also been concerned with General's look of discomfort when he had been rubbing his belly earlier, and wanted to whip up something for his possible digestion problems.

Humming a tune to himself, Harry went about gathering the necessary ingredients. Short, stubby jar, long, flat box, bumpy vial, all lined up neatly in a row. He was fairly confident he could make these basic potions even if he were totally blind, but ... he shook his head. No time to think of that now.

Harry was just allowing the base to simmer when he heard a familiar gnawing sound at the door. Ever persistent, General was trying to chew a hole through the door. The sound only confirmed Harry's desire to make a Digestion Draught for him – the little thing had probably consumed his weight in wood in the past week.

Worried General would get a splinter in his tongue for his efforts, Harry took pity on him and opened the door. "You could have a little patience, you know. This one is for you."

General paid him no regard. He hopped onto a chair and then up onto the counter where the potion was still bubbling. Harry startled when General got particularly close to the flames heating the cauldron, but somehow, the rabbit knew just how far he could go without becoming the amazing fireball bunny. He couldn't help but snort at the image. General looked over at him – if rabbits had eyebrows, Harry would have sworn he was arching one at him in the most patronizing manner possible.

"Well, is it up to your standards, oh mighty General?"

General cocked an ear at him and hopped off the table and out the door. Muttering about the wretched manners of lagomorphs, Harry went back to his potion. It had just turned a lovely shade of peach when General re-entered the lab, rolling with his twitching nose a pomegranate that had to be larger than his entire head.

"Thanks, but I already ate," Harry said. Wincing at the exasperated look General gave him, Harry wondered how it was possible to feel insulted by a rabbit. "Well? What else would you have me do with it?"

General leaped up to the table where Harry kept his potions equipment. He nudged a knife until it fell on the floor. "Now that you almost sliced one of my toes off, I suppose you want me to cut the pomegranate open?"

General stretched his body out, looking as effortlessly regal as a sphinx, and stared at him. Rolling his eyes, and wondering for the hundredth time just how he became a slave to animals a fraction of his size, Harry cut off the crown of the pomegranate, cursing a bit when the ruby juice squirted on his white shirt. He then made five evenly spaced cuts in the skin of the fruit. Summoning a bowl, he filled it with water, and then held the pomegranate below it, carefully breaking it apart and pulling the seeds out. The arils sank to the bottom of the bowl, while the membrane and pith floated to the top. After skimming off the membrane, Harry drained the water with a sieve, and then ran cold water over them for good measure. He held them out to General.

"Do they meet your approval?"

General sat up from his reclined position and peered at the arils. Hesitating for a minute, he finally gave Harry's hand a quick but gentle lick. Smiling at his reluctant show of affection, Harry went back to the cauldron.

"So, I'm assuming you think I need to add some of these to the potion?"

General thumped his hind legs. Harry wondered how he was so lucky to have highly intelligent animals as companions.

"How many?"

General paused, then thumped his hind legs again. "Only one?" Another pause, and then he thumped eleven more times. "Twelve, really?" General thumped once in agreement. "Okay, then. It’s your stomach."

One by one, Harry added the seeds. The potion hissed, then turned a deep scarlet.

"It has to cool. You'll have it with your dinner. It's better with food anyway ... or do you have a different opinion?"

General hopped down from the table and out the door. Taking that to mean he had no further suggestions, Harry extinguished the flames underneath the cauldron. He wondered if he were mad for taking potions guidance from a two-pound rabbit. Harry wasn't certain, but he was pretty sure even in the wizarding world that wasn't normal. He wondered vaguely if all the years away from civilization had finally made him crack, but then decided to ignore the misgivings. Mad or not, he was content here with his strange, furry family.

Harry smiled and popped one of the seeds into his mouth. Then, on a whim, he ate another eleven.

~*~

That night, as Harry buried himself beneath the covers, General nosed his way through the bedroom door and hopped onto the bed before stretching out on the pillow beside Harry.

"Hey, there," Harry murmured, petting his soft head. "Couldn't take any more of Niobe?"

General stared at Harry, who was suddenly overcome with an image of Niobe nudging and nestling with General, all while licking behind his ears. Harry laughed. "Can't much blame you, I suppose."

General cocked his ear, then settled himself into the pillow.

"Well, good night."

~*~

It was dark outside. That was all Harry could think as he made his way through the forest. So dark he couldn't see his hand in front of him, let alone where he was going. He felt a moment of absolute panic – was this it? Was it gone already? He wasn't ready! The fear gradually resided, however; somehow he could sense it was merely nighttime, not the deficiencies of his eyes that was plaguing him.

He moved cautiously forward – or what he assumed was forward anyway. Twigs crunched beneath his feet. In the distance, he inexplicably heard the roar of some wild animal, either a lion or a tiger. Perhaps he wasn't in his beloved forest, but somewhere in Africa ... but then why was he so cold? He heard the roar again and suddenly felt as innocent and vulnerable as a little lamb.

Twin spots of light ahead stopped him in his tracks. They were eyes, burning brightly in the night. But what animal had eyes that were black but inexplicably shone as gold as a new Galleon? Frightened but drawn to the light, Harry stepped closer, unable to stop his legs from walking.

The light grew as Harry got closer. Soon it wasn't just two glowing eyes, but a golden light around an upright human body. And not just any human body, but –

"Snape," Harry whispered. "Snape."

Snape didn't say a word, just stared at him with those impenetrable black eyes. It was then Harry realized that there wasn't just a glow around his former professor – no, Snape _himself_ was glowing, somehow lighting up the darkness of the forest.

"How? Can you –"

Snape started to hold up a hand, and then Harry realized his hands and feet were in thick, heavy chains. Snape didn't seem overly disturbed. In fact, he looked resigned to his condition.

"But, that’s not fair! You ... you've done so much! And you're GLOWING! Snape, do you know that? Do you –"

And then Harry couldn't help himself. He reached up, pressed one trembling hand to Snape's face. Snape gave no indication he even noticed the action. Harry traced the lines on his face, determined to see if this was truly his old adversary. He saw two white scars on his neck, and reverently touched them as well.

"Don't you know me? Please, I want to help you! We can get out! We can!"

Harry dropped his hand to Snape's chest, wanting only to feel the man's heartbeat. But it was hot, hotter than an oven, and Harry had to jerk his hand back. Hissing in pain, he looked up at the sky. Suddenly, it was a starry, starry night…but tonight, the stars didn't look familiar and welcoming. Rather, they were menacing, as though they were waiting for the right moment to attack them ... Harry couldn't shake the sense that soon the stars would be hurling from the skies until they hit the earth, incinerating it and all its inhabitants.

"Snape, we need to leave! Let me help you!" Oh, the stars were closing in; Harry could almost feel their spears lancing his back.

Snape suddenly reached one shackled hand up to grasp Harry's. The touch burned, but Harry couldn't bring himself to pull away. "He who made you made me," the man rasped. Then he opened his mouth, and fire erupted from his throat, basking the forest in the most incredible brightness, and Harry was blinded not by darkness, but by light.

~*~

Harry woke up in a cold sweat. Panting, he looked beside him, where General was still stretched out peacefully. Feeling guilty for disturbing General's rest, but unable to resist this small bit of selfishness, Harry sat up in bed, scooping up General as he did so. The rabbit started, and for a second Harry was worried he’d jump away, leaving only scratches on his arms, but he was soon settled in his embrace. Harry held him tightly, still struggling to breathe, and only wanting the comfort this cantankerous but somehow lovable creature could give him. Harry held him until the tremors stopped, and even General seemed to realize that right now, his owner would be more heartbroken than amused by his ornery attempts to escape.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, giving General a final squeeze and kissing the fuzzy top of his head. A few hairs came away on his lips, but he didn't bother wiping them away. "You can go back to sleep now." Harry deposited General back on his pillow and gave him a final scratch behind the ears. "I love you, you know."

General only stared at him, and for an uncomfortable moment Harry was reminded of the black, glowing eyes of his dream. With a final shudder, he turned on his heel and fled as quickly as he was able.

The sun was just starting to rise above the trees, so Harry was able to walk outside without much trouble. He sat on a tree stump and waited.

Sure enough, Helen knew when Harry needed her most. In less than a minute, she was by his side, kneeling, her head just barely resting on his lap. It was only then, with his fingers tangled in her mane, that Harry finally allowed his tears to fall.

He cried out his fears, his loneliness, his aching need to see Ron and Hermione again, his guilty wish to leave his little cottage and never come back. He trembled when he thought of returning home; he shuddered when he thought of no longer considering this cottage home. He felt nauseous, thinking of how much he would never see, how much he would never do, how far the Boy Who Lived had fallen. But mostly he cried for Snape, the Snape of his past and of his dream, who had given so much and who Harry could never save.

Harry felt hot liquid on his skin. He looked up, and realized Helen was crying too. "Oh, not you," he whispered. "Don’t waste your tears on me."

But, as always, the tears cooled on Harry's skin, leaving him with a sense of supreme peace and understanding. His own tears slowed and the dizziness in his stomach quelled. With a few last deep, heaving breaths, Harry wrapped his arms around Helen's neck. How could he ever think about leaving this haven? He had everything he could possibly want. But even as he held Helen close and reveled in her warmth, he couldn't shake the feeling that for the first time in years, he wanted to be held in the embrace of another human.

A sharp nip at his bum interrupted Harry from his musings. He looked down and laughed to see General glaring up at him with an annoyed expression on his sweet little apple-shaped face. "Oh, you," Harry said, still chuckling as he picked the rabbit up and held him on his lap, "What am I ever going to do with you?"

It was strange, Harry thought, as he held General while leaning against Helen, that the unicorn was still crying. But for now he was content to simply sit there and watch the sun rise through the trees.

~*~

"Cast in unbreakable irons, Prometheus was chained to the top of the Caucasus Mountains. Every day an eagle swooped out of the sky and ate his liver. At night his immortal liver grew anew, but every day the eagle returned and he had to suffer again."

Harry closed the book with a shudder. For some reason, the tale of the Titan stealing fire from the gods reminded him far too much of his dream of Snape the other night. But the animals, as ever, seemed to enjoy it. He stood up, cradling General in his arm like an American football, and said goodnight.

He and General settled into bed without much trouble. Somehow, it seemed normal to tuck himself into bed as General hopped around on the next pillow until it was to his liking. With one last murmured "good night," Harry turned off the lights.

Harry wished his sleep could be as peaceful as his bedtime routine. It was a restless night. He never dreamed, but he had trouble staying asleep for more than an hour or so at a time. Each time he woke, he was more and more tangled in his bed sheets. The last time he sat up and held his head in his hands, trying to get his thoughts under control. Finally, somewhat calmer, he lay back down in bed and looked over ... General was gone.

His first reaction was sheer panic. No matter how he told himself General could have just gone to eat some food, or, like Harry, couldn't sleep, he couldn't shake the fear that something was very wrong.

Not even bothering to pull on a bathrobe, Harry bolted from the room and down the stairs, shouting General's name. There was Vincent stirring in his bed, and Achilles limping out from his favorite corner, and even Ludwig flying about anxiously, but no General.

He flung open the front door and ran outside. It slammed behind him, and he was thrust into darkness. It was as dark as his dreams, without even the treacherous stars lighting the sky. Harry felt a twinge of nervousness, but it couldn't overcome his panic at losing General.

"General!" Harry's voice was hoarse from screaming, but it could hardly even be heard above the whirling wind. "General!"

He turned around, frantic, desperately hoping to detect some sound or movement. Nothing. And now he couldn't even see his cottage.

A snap of twigs stopped him short. "General!" Harry shouted again as he ran toward the sound.

He should have known by now, he thought as he tripped over a root and went soaring through the air, not to run in the forest. Not in the dark. Not ever. He landed on the ground with a dull thud. The overwhelming pain didn't even hit until a moment later.

Before he passed out, Harry thought he felt strong arms lift him up. He even thought he heard somebody whisper his name over and over again. His dismissed it as the wind, and let the darkness take over him.

~*~

When Harry woke up, he was tucked tightly in bed. A line of potions vials lined his bedside table, set beside a rolled up piece of parchment. And General was on his usual pillow, gazing intently at Harry.

Harry smiled and tried to whisper a greeting to his beloved pet, but no words came out of his parched throat. General hopped over to him and tentatively licked his cheek.

Once more at peace, Harry fell back asleep.

~*~

When Harry came to again, the sun was shining through his bedroom windows. He tentatively reached a hand up to this throbbing head and winced at the size of the knot on his forehead. Well, that explained the headache. He started to sit up in bed and hissed at the pain in his ankle. It felt like a bad sprain. Don't go running outside in the forest at night. Lesson learned.

Grimacing, Harry forced himself up and glanced over at his bedside table. He had thought those potion vials had just been an illusion in his pain-filled daze, but they were still there. After only a few grunts and gasps at the sharp aches in his body, he reached for the parchment beside the bottles. It contained detailed instructions on how and when to take the potions. But what was most curious was the note afterwards:

_My humblest apologies. Although you have no reason to trust me after last night, I implore you to take these potions as directed. I assure you, it will only be to your benefit._

The handwriting was vaguely familiar – the harsh angles of the letters in particular struck Harry's memory. But there was also something odd about it. Instead of a sure hand, it almost looked as though the writer wasn't accustomed to writing. Although there was a distinctive style to the letters, there was a shaky, hesitant quality to it.

Deciding there were more practical ways to spend his day than analyzing handwriting – namely, imbibing some of the potions, and getting back to caring for his animals – Harry downed the nearest vial, as instructed in the note, and, relieved at the sudden absence of pain in his leg, got out of bed with only the slightest of limps.

He knew he should be troubled, even angry. For the first time in five years, there had been another human being in his home, and he had no idea who it was or how he got there. Harry had told no one, not even Ron or Hermione, where he was living, and his cottage was deep enough in the woods that it would take the average person at least three days to find it, even if they knew where they were going. Everything about Harry's life _should_ have been undetectable. This meant that either somebody from his old life had made a conscious effort to somehow seek him out, or, perhaps worse, somebody had just happened across his home. Yes, it was a bit disturbing, and as he made his way to the kitchen, Harry was half-expecting somebody to jump out from a corner with a wand poised to attack. But the other half insisted that this intruder, whoever he was, had rescued Harry, put him in bed, and left him more-than-adequate potions, so Harry was hard-pressed to be all that upset.

"Hello –" Harry stopped when he reached the tile floor of the kitchen. All of the animals except for Helen were gathered there. That in itself wasn't odd. What distressed him was how General was trying to reach his food bowl, but Vincent and Achilles kept nudging the bowl just out of his reach. The others had gathered in a circle around them, and if General tried to escape, would snarl, hiss, or even nip at him. Even Niobe had surrendered her motherly instincts and was growling at him.

General looked up and caught Harry's eye. Harry was overwhelmed by a rush of sympathy for his beloved pet. General was far too proud to beg or plead for help, but there he was, being harassed and intimidated by those who had become his adoptive family over the past week or so. Harry's heart broke for him.

"That's enough of that," Harry said sternly. "General is a member of this family, and you will treat him as such. Now go." The animals, clearly seeing the furious expression on Harry's face, scurried out of the room, leaving him alone with General. The rabbit stared up at him, defiant but obviously still frightened. Harry sighed and sat down on the floor, inviting General over to his lap. "You know, it's not a crime to want to feel safe."

General hesitated for a moment, then hopped over onto Harry's thighs. After a few seconds, he got up on his hind legs and leaned against Harry's shoulder. Harry scooped him up and nestled him in his arms.

"They didn't mean anything by it," Harry told the trembling rabbit. "They just don't like seeing me hurt. It works both ways, I guess. But their behavior was wrong. It's not your fault I'm a blind klutz. For once, my dear General, you are totally innocent." He smiled a bit and gave him a squeeze. It seemed like his frantic heart rate was finally slowing down, a fact for which Harry was immensely relieved. He knew it was all-too-common for rabbits to literally die of fright, going into cardiac arrest as they shook in terror. While he would be upset if any of his animals died, he somehow knew General's death would be particularly devastating.

General rarely left Harry’s side for the rest of the day. Every so often he would hop away to use the litter box or eat some food, but he always made sure Harry was still in sight. At one point, Harry thought he had lost him, but then found him in his bedroom, waiting by the line of potions, evidently reminding Harry that it was time for his next dose. Apparently Niobe had worn off on him.

All in all, it was a pleasant day; in fact, it may have been one of the best days Harry had spent in his cottage. Nothing terribly exciting happened, and while the potions worked wonders, there was still a dull throb in Harry's head and ankle, but he found he didn't mind. Relaxing on the sofa with General resting on his chest, drifting between reading from the book of Greek myths and napping, Harry would be hard-pressed to be anywhere else.

~*~

Harry wasn't sure what made him wake with a jerk at three in the morning. He'd had no nightmares he could remember, and had been enjoying a rather peaceful sleep. But there he was, wide awake, in bed, alone.

The abject fear and panic that had struck last time he had awakened without General beside him was remarkably absent. Instead, Harry felt completely calm, as though he was floating through a cloud in a pleasant dream. Harry got out of bed and put on his slippers. There was no rational reason for his actions, but somehow he knew where to go and what he would find.

This time, he stepped outside cautiously, his wand alight. Still, he didn't even need it. The forest was ablaze with light. Helen even seemed brighter than usual, her hide glowing as though she had swallowed a thousand fireflies. And then there was the intense light from the man's wand, the man that, if he would just stop petting Helen's head for a moment and turn around, that man would be ...

"Snape," Harry whispered.

Snape flinched, but did not turn around right away. Harry could see he was holding a vial up to Helen's eye, catching the tears that she was giving freely. After Snape had capped the vial and put it in his threadbare robes, he turned to face Harry.

"Potter."

Even though he had been bracing himself for it, hearing the voice of Severus Snape after all these years was so shocking that Harry temporarily felt the wind knocked out of him. Determined not to show his weakness, however, he stood firm and continued staring at his former professor.

"I rather expected more shouts or curses," Snape said, not looking away. The tears staining his cheeks seemed to glow with light, only accentuating the way his black eyes appeared to be burning with light of a thousand fires.

"I think I was just expecting it was you," Harry said softly. Unable to withstand Snape's gaze anymore, he moved to stroke Helen's mane. "You were collecting her tears?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Snape nod. "They are immensely valuable, and can cure virtually any ailment. I may not have been in my human body for years, but I could not resist the opportunity." He paused. "I apologize that my actions the other night caused you injury. It was not my intention."

Harry shrugged, still resolutely keeping his eyes on the unicorn. "Like I said before, it's not your fault I'm a clumsy fool who ran out into the forest in the middle of the night."

They stayed in silence for a minute, both stroking Helen. Her tears had stopped, but a few still glimmered in her eyes like diamonds.

"You're blind."

"But it will."

Harry shrugged again. "It's not so bad. Just my peripheral vision, and seeing at night. And I was practically blind before anyway." He tapped on the frame of his glasses with a self-deprecating laugh. "Right now, it doesn't make much of a difference."

"I could fix it."

Harry's hand stilled in Helen's thick mane. "Poppy said it would take a miracle."

"Potter, I am the greatest potions master in Britain. I saved myself from bleeding to death from the bite of a gigantic, poisonous viper. Do you think I can't cure a simple case of impending blindness, especially when aided with the tears of your own unicorn?"

"I can see your absence from the wizarding world hasn't diminished your ego any," Harry muttered. Raising his voice, he said, "Professor, I appreciate it, but I've had five years to accept the fact that I’m going to lose my sight. I'd really rather not get my hopes up. I have all I need here; I'll be fine."

"I fail to see how anybody, especially an obnoxious Gryffindor such as yourself, could resign himself to a life of darkness without putting up a fight."

"Like you've ever had to fight your blindness."

For a long moment, the only sound was the rustle of leaves in the wind. Then, finally, Snape replied, "In fact, Mr. Potter, I have. And I won." He stepped back from Helen. "I won't waste any more of your time. I will leave tonight."

"What?" Harry asked, startled.

"Now that you know I'm not your precious pet bunny rabbit, I imagine you'd rather I leave you be."

"No. Of course not. Where would you go? Besides, I was kind of hoping ..." Harry paused, and finally had the courage to turn to stare resolutely into Snape's eyes. "I wanted to talk to you. About how you escaped. And how you fooled everybody into thinking you were dead. And maybe even," here he took a deep breath, "my mum. But even if you don't want to talk, I'd like for you to stay here. I'm not quite ready to say goodbye to General," Harry said with a little smile.

"Five years as a rabbit did not improve my disposition, Potter," Snape said in a threatening voice. "I will not cuddle with you and twitch my nose sweetly in your ear."

Harry bit back a laugh. "I would never expect you to, sir. Please, come inside."

"Perhaps it's for the best," Snape said as he swept in front of Harry and headed back toward the cottage. "If I'm living with you, I may be able to pound some sense into your thick skull."

This time, Harry couldn't hold back his smile.

~*~

_It just wasn't right._

Harry turned onto his side in bed, taking the covers with him, but it didn't do any good. Nothing did any good. He had been lying wide awake for more than an hour, unable to sleep knowing that General – or the person who was General, anyway – was in the house but not by his side. It felt like a critical part of his own being was missing.

Giving it up as a lost cause, he rolled out of bed and headed to the parlor. As long as he was awake, he could get some reading done.

Harry stopped when he saw Snape sitting on his sofa, staring straight ahead in the fire. He coughed gently, and Snape turned around.

"I thought you were going to bed, Potter."

"I couldn't sleep. What about you? Is the sofa not comfortable?"

"The sofa is fine," Snape said. "I fear I am simply not ... accustomed to ..."

Unnerved at seeing the usually eloquent Snape at loss for words, Harry interjected before the proud man could embarrass himself further. "You could sleep with me." His cheeks burned as abruptly as Snape's eyes narrowed. "I didn’t mean it like that! I mean ... I have a big bed, and it's what you're used to, and what I'm used to ... it just seems stupid for neither of us to get any sleep!"

"Considering your reaction to your own words, Mr. Potter, I'm sure even you can tell that suggestion is not appropriate."

"Well, it’s not like anybody's going to know anyway, is it? And besides, if you want, you could transform into General. I've become quite fond of him."

Snape studied Harry's face. Harry fought the urge to close his eyes against the all-seeing gaze, but held firm. Finally, Snape turned back to the fire. "Go to bed, Potter."

Telling himself he wasn't disappointed, and at least convinced he wasn't surprised, Harry sighed, bade Snape good night, and headed back to his room. He curled himself into a ball under his warm covers and closed his eyes tightly, as if by doing so he could completely block himself off to the outside world, the world in which he had just clumsily invited Severus Snape, Potions Master of Doom, into his bed.

A small, rough tongue licked his hand. Harry pulled his head out from under the covers. General looked a bit frightened and embarrassed, but he was there, stretched out on his usual spot. Harry smiled and rubbed the fuzzy spot between his ears.

That night, Harry dreamed of sunshine.

~*~

Over the next few days, they fell into an odd sort of routine. They would wake once the sun's rays streamed in through the windows, and eat a quiet breakfast. (Harry had learned the hard way that Snape was not a morning person.) Then Harry would go about caring for the animals, filling their food bowls, grooming them, and tending to any maladies, and Snape would lock himself in the potions lab. He had not yet accepted Harry's insistence that he had resigned himself to losing his eyesight, and would only emerge when he smelled the dinner Harry cooked. They'd eat dinner surrounded by the animal family, relax for a bit, and then Harry would read a myth out loud to them all. When all the furry creatures had scampered off to bed, and darkness had set in, Snape would light his wand, and he and Harry would step outside, sit by Helen, and talk.

These talks were quickly becoming Harry's favorite part of the day. They discussed everything: Harry learned how Snape had been attempting to become an Animagus in the days before receiving Nagini's bite and, after administering anti-venom and blood replenishing potions to himself, transformed for the first time into a "scared little rabbit." He heard of the years Snape spent in the forest, hiding from all humans as well as predators, surviving only on leaves and the rare vegetable. And in turn, Harry told him about how he found himself clumsier after the Final Battle, and, after one too many falls, how he finally gave in to see Poppy. He told him of his disbelief and subsequent depression when he learned he was losing his sight and would be blind by the age of 70. And of course, he told him of his ultimate decision to leave the pitiful gazes of his friends behind and move into the quiet safety of his cottage.

Sometimes, when the conversation lapsed into silence, Harry would catch Snape looking at him as though examining a puzzle. Then their eyes would meet, and instead of Snape looking away like a chagrined schoolboy, he would continue his steady gaze. There was something in Snape's eyes that thrilled Harry to every fiber of his being – he felt warm as if he had just drank a large cup of hot tea on a blustery day, and he wanted to simply be closer, to bask in the sweet scent of another human being in his vicinity.

Then the warmth would turn to fire and Harry would jump away, afraid to be burnt. He'd run back to the cottage on some made up excuse and prepare himself for bed. After exactly twenty minutes, Snape would enter the room, place a vial that Harry firmly refused to even look at on the bedside table, and, after studying Harry for a moment, transform into General and hop onto the bed.

Harry was almost convinced he didn't need anything else.

~*~

"Going somewhere?"

Harry jumped, startled to hear Snape's voice anytime before supper. The buckets he had been holding fell to the floor with a clatter, sending Vincent and Niobe scattering away. He bent down to pick them up, and blushed when he turned and saw Snape's eyes glued to the spot where his arse had just been a moment ago.

"No, just cleaning out Helen's stable. Did you need something?"

"Only this." Quick as a flash, Snape reached out, grabbed Harry's arm, and sliced it with a blade, holding a flask underneath the flow. Harry hissed at the pain but didn't pull away. When Snape was apparently satisfied with the blood he received, he murmured a healing charm and sealed the flask.

"Very poor reflexes, Potter. I see your time away from the real world has not helped your survival skills."

"How was I supposed to know you'd slice my bloody arm open? Christ. No, I don't even want to know. Besides," he said, trying his best to keep eye contact, "it won't do you any good. I'm not taking any of your potions."

"Who said anything about a potion?" Snape murmured absently. "Perhaps I just enjoy imbibing the blood of virgins with my lunch."

"You – what? I'm – what made you—" Harry sputtered, certain his face was as red as Ludwig's brilliant scarlet plumes.

"You look like a farmer," Snape said, as casually as one might discuss the weather. “Denim overalls, flannel shirt. You just need a" – he took a saucer off the table and transfigured it into a straw hat, and placed it on Harry's head – "hat, and, ah yes, as a final touch ..." He pointed his wand at a stray hair on the floor and transfigured it into a piece of straw. Bending down so his arse – oh GOD, when did he start noticing men's _arses_? – was right in Harry's line of vision, he delicately picked it up. Then he rose, straw still in hand, and placed it in Harry's slack-jawed mouth. With a smirk, he snapped Harry's mouth shut. "Now you look like a farmer."

Harry stared, his mouth clamped tightly on the piece of straw. When had this happened?

"Now, go. Dinner's at six, and I won't have you at the dinner table reeking of unicorn manure, no matter how valuable it is. You will leave those buckets by the west wall."

Harry nodded, his heart pounding so loudly he could barely hear all the barking and clucking around him. He passed his elderly tortoise, Meleager, who was stubbornly hiding in his shell. "You lucky bastard."

~*~

Dinner smelled delicious. Dinner looked delicious. But for the life of him, Harry couldn't bring himself to determine if dinner tasted delicious. In theory, it would be: home-made fettuccine tossed with broccoli, chopped tomatoes, zucchini, and mushrooms sautéed in a white wine and garlic sauce. A fresh salad by his plate. A glass of wine. Delicious.

But Harry couldn't control his racing heart. As much as he tried to simply relax and enjoy the meal, he couldn't fight the pit of nausea in his stomach. Once he at least managed to twirl some of the noodles around his fork, but one glance at Snape, who was clearly thoroughly enjoying his pasta and eating it the most indecent way possible, had Harry's palms sweating.

"Is there something wrong with your food?"

Harry took a big gulp of his wine. "No ... just not hungry, I guess."

"Hmmm…perhaps you'd care for dessert then?" He took his time sucking the last of the sauce off his fork.

Harry couldn't help it. "Excuse me," he muttered, and shoved his chair out and ran to the safety of his room.

~*~

"You do realize that's a children's book?"

Harry rolled his eyes as he placed the book of myths down on the table. "Yes, Snape. Go on, by all means, get on with your scathing comments of how I must not be able to read anything more challenging than a book geared toward ten-year-olds."

"Nothing of the sort," Snape said with an offended sniff. "I was merely going to inquire why."

"Oh." Harry hunched back in his seat, a little embarrassed. "Well. You'll just laugh at me more, but ... I like the pictures." When Snape only pursed his lips in thought, he rushed on. "They're so bright and vivid. Eventually I have the stories more or less memorized ... which will probably be a good thing in the long run, you know? But even when I can't see the words anymore, I reckon I could still see those pictures. I hope, anyway."

"Harry ..."

Later, Harry would marvel at Snape's use of his first name. Now, he just felt the same sick panic he had whenever Snape brought up a possible cure. "Snape, no. I appreciate it, I do. But for five years I've been told there's no chance. I don't want to get my hopes up and have to go through that all over again."

"I never fail."

Harry rolled his eyes again. "I know that. But the answer is still no."

"It's a pity, then," Snape said, stretching out his long legs. "The Greek myths were rather lascivious in their original form. They rather lose something when they're watered down so snotty-nosed brats can understand them without running to mummy with questions."

"I know that," Harry said, trying his hardest not to sound like one of those whiny snotty-nosed brats. "I've read them, you know. The Iliad, the Odyssey…I just prefer –"

"So then you've read of Heracles and Hylas," Snape interrupted. "Did you know they were lovers?" he asked in a husky whisper. "That when Hylas was kidnapped by the water nymphs, Heracles was heartbroken and went mad with grief, searching for his young lover?"

Harry gulped. Snape's voice was having a maddening effect on his body, and he felt a tightening in his groin every time Snape mentioned the word "lover". He suppressed a groan.

"No? What of Achilles and Patroklos? You don't really imagine a great, violent hero such as Achilles would be so upset over the death of a mere friend, do you? No, they were lovers through and through; love and passion ... I admit, sometimes I wonder what those two warriors got up to on the nights when it was simply too tense, if they fucked in the woods as the battle raged mere strides away. But I suppose that isn't in your picture book."

Harry discreetly dabbed at the sweat beading on his brow. "Um, no," he coughed.

"More's the pity," Snape said, standing to leave the room. "I fear you are missing out on quite the experience."

It was only when he was left alone that Harry realized he was hard.

~*~

When Harry entered his bedroom later that night – much later, as it had taken quite a while for his erection to wilt – Snape was sitting on his bed holding a brush.

"I was hoping you would brush my hair for me tonight."

"Ex – what – I don't –" Harry sputtered.

"You did so when you thought me to be a rabbit," Snape said, as calmly as if explaining to a five-year-old that two and two was four. "I rather enjoyed it then. I thought the exercise would also help you to further reconcile myself with your beloved General."

Harry took the brush from Snape. His arm felt like a foreign appendage. Somehow, it raised itself and then slid through Snape's long, black strands. There were no knots or tangles, and Harry soon found it just as soothing as brushing General's soft fur.

Unable to resist, he raised his other hand and stroked Snape's hair. Not quite like General's fur – certainly not as fuzzy or thick. But it was pleasant in its own way, and Harry would have been content to card his fingers through it for hours.

"Not quite the greasy git from school, are you?" Harry surprised himself by asking.

"If you hadn't taken me in, I'm sure I would have been even greasier than you remember," Snape said. "You took good care of me."

Harry felt heat rise in his cheeks. "Well, you were a starved rabbit. How could I not?"

"And if I had shown up on the doorstep in my human form? Would you not have treated me with the same courtesy?"

Harry paused in his strokes. "I suppose I would have." He chuckled. "But somehow I can't see you allowing me to wash your hair right away."

"Not right away, no," Snape admitted.

They stayed like that in silence for a while, Harry alternating between using the brush and his fingers to smooth Snape's hair, Snape sitting in peaceful contentment. It was nice, Harry thought. Different from grooming the animals as he had for years, but he enjoyed it just as much. He had been without the presence of another human being for so long, it seemed odd to be doing a favor for another, to know it was appreciated, and to have the choice of speaking but deciding to keep quiet and simply bask in the moment.

Well, bask for a little while anyway.

"The potion is now as perfect as it will ever become. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain by taking it now."

Harry jerked his hand back, ignoring Snape's pained hiss when he took several strands of hair with him. "Snape, I've said it before. No."

"And why not?" Snape asked, rising from the bed and turning to face Harry. "You are losing your sight. Hidden away in this cottage, you haven't seen your friends in years. Give me one legitimate reason why you won't take this potion."

"I don't need to give you a reason!" Harry shouted. "They're _my_ bloody eyes!"

"It's not all about you, Potter!" Snape shouted back. "Perhaps in the years you've spent alone you've come accustomed to answering to no one for your actions, but now I'm here, and I will not allow you to act like a spoiled child refusing to accept the help he desperately needs!"

"I don't need your help!" Harry snapped. "I _don't_! Damn it, Snape, I was _happy_ here. I _had_ a life here with my animals. I don't need to deal with everybody's demands. My animals ... I give them my all because I _want_ to, and they don't ask for or expect anything more. What gives you the right to storm in here and demand that I change it all for you?"

"I was brought here by one of those very animals," Snape reminded him. "So I suspect even they knew you weren't totally happy here. Don't try to deny it. I see you have your family with your animals, but you had a family in the wizarding world as well, and the Harry Potter I knew, the reckless, impetuous fool that he was, would be loath to give that up."

"I don't want to go back," Harry whispered. "Even if I took your damn potion, I wouldn't want to go back."

"Of course not," Snape said. "You were horribly manipulated. Your mentor had no qualms in using you to accomplish his goals, even if it meant sending you to slaughter like a sacrificial lamb." His voice lowered. "I understand, Harry. He did the same thing to me. Although I would never presume to call myself a lamb. I never had the luxury of that innocence. I was the vicious tiger, the one nobody would dare get close to for fear of being ripped to shreds, the one nobody could trust. I will admit, I encouraged the reputation. It was beneficial to me, and I delude no one into thinking I am a nice man underneath it all. But I was manipulated just as you, and I wanted to hide as well. I hid for more than twenty years. You saw what happened to me. I won’t have it happen to you as well."

"Dumbledore is dead," Harry said shakily. "I have nothing to fear from him."

"No," Snape agreed. "But who's to say the minister won't do the same? Who's to say what the public will demand? Nevertheless, you cannot stay in this little cottage oblivious to the outside world. What of that blasted Gryffindor courage? Where is it now?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe I used it all up during the war."

"Bollocks. Take the damn potion."

"No."

Fire filled Snape's eyes. This was the Snape Harry remembered from school. He had been largely absent in the past few days, but now he was back in full force. Furious, blazing with white hot rage, his fingers flexing with the apparent desire to strangle Harry's neck ... Harry unconsciously took a small step backwards, but Snape grabbed his shirt front and wrenched him forward until Harry could smell the spices on his breath.

"You're afraid," Snape said in a deadly whisper. "You're afraid of what you might see. And I will not tolerate such cowardice." He abruptly released Harry, who stumbled backwards. "Stumbling about in blindness when offered a torch ... it is utter foolishness. I've experienced it, and I will not sit around and watch you do the same." He whirled around and threw open the door. "Go the fuck to sleep," he said with a whip of his wand.

Harry barely had time to think before he fell onto his bed in a deep slumber.

~*~

Harry felt an eerie calm when he awoke. He didn't even think as he pulled the covers back, stepped into his slippers, and pulled on a robe, into which he deposited the vial from his nightstand. He moved quietly, not wanting to disturb his animals in their slumber.

Snape was right where Harry expected him to be – standing beside Helen, stroking her mane. Harry took a moment to let the sight sink in. Snape, tall and dressed in black, his face etched with harsh lines but with an expression of utter peace, illuminated by the strange white glow that always accompanied Helen at night. Somehow, this felt right, and Harry was loath to give it up just yet.

"I dreamed about you tonight," Harry finally blurted. His voice echoed in the night breeze.

Snape turned toward him but didn't stop weaving his fingers through Helen's mane. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Harry said, shuffling his feet. "I dreamed you came out here, leaped into the sky, and flew away."

Snape pulled an apple out of his robes and held it out to Helen. "I'd never fly again. It was a sickening feeling. Even wizards were not meant to fly without the aid of a broom. You never quite knew if you would ever land back on solid ground. Nauseating, really."

Harry attempted to smile. His nerves were fast becoming the best of him. "Not fly away then. How about run?"

Snape snorted. "Not bloody likely."

Harry's laugh was a little hysterical even to his own ears. "Walk briskly, then?"

Snape sighed. "I could never leave here, Harry." He added under his breath, "No matter how much I may want to."

"Really?" Harry asked. "Why not?"

Snape sighed. "I was brought to you. You took me in and brought me back to life. You gave me a home and brought me peace. I have never known anything like it."

"Well, you don't have to just stay out of gratitude, you know," Harry said. "If you wanted to leave ... that'd be fine. It's your life, after all." His stomach ached at the blatant lie. Oh, it would kill him if Snape left.

"It's not just gratitude," Snape said. "I tried to leave. When you still knew me as General, I attempted to escape. Then you came looking for me, were injured, and still defended me when I did not deserve it."

"Oh, that. Well, it's fine. Don’t worry about it."

"I tried to leave again tonight," Snape interrupted. "I still believe what I said earlier. You don't belong hidden away like this. You belong with your friends, out in the real world, seeing everything it has to offer."

"I'm happy here," Harry said softly. "I'd like to see my friends, but Vincent, and Charon, and Helen ... they're my family now. I could never leave them."

"I realize that now," Snape said. "Just as I could never leave you." He made an almost retching noise. "Disgusting, sentimental rot. But I still found that no matter how I tried tonight, I could not leave here. Although," he amended quickly, "if you wanted me gone, I would certainly abide by your wishes."

"No, of course not," Harry said.

Snape nodded. "Somehow, Harry Potter, I have found myself tied to you more than ever. I will admit, the thought terrifies me."

Harry gulped. "It scares me too," he rasped.

Snape finally left Helen and moved until he was directly in front of Harry. His scent overpowered Harry. The forest was deafeningly quiet, and all Harry could think was how very close Snape was to him, how he could see the stubble on his cheeks and that freckle right by his nose, and he was getting even closer, and, oh God, his lips were closer and he didn't know what to do with them, but his lips, they were moving now, Snape was whispering "But is it worth being afraid of?" And then ...

Snape tasted of pomegranate. His lips were soft and gently grazed his at first, but after the first intoxicating touch, Harry couldn't get enough. He needed more of Snape, more of his touch, more of his tantalizing kisses.

Snape pulled away and held Harry at arm's length. "We may abandon our fears. But this won't be easy."

"I know," Harry said. He stood up on his toes and placed a chaste kiss on Snape's lips. "But I’d like to see."

~*~

The next month was spent in a happy blur. Harry had not realized just how much he had missed human contact until he was regularly held in Severus's strong arms. He rejoiced even when Severus was screaming at him in one of their numerous bitter arguments, just from the glorious sound of hearing another human voice responding to his own. Then Severus would shake his head in wonder at Harry's broad smile, and he'd have no choice but to kiss that insubordinate smile off of Harry's face, which would lead to an excursion to the bedroom ... or to any flat surface not immediately occupied by their animals.

No doubt about it, Harry still loved his animals as much as ever, and he couldn't imagine ever leaving them. And even though he doubted his lover would ever admit it, Harry knew Severus had a soft spot for their menagerie as well. But Harry was slowly coming to the realization that all those years he had been viewing his cottage as a safe haven from the pitying, demanding eyes of the public, he had actually been starving for human affection. And Severus was more than sating his hunger now.

“It doesn't seem quite fair,” Harry said as he played with Severus's fingers entwined with his own. "Icarus was just excited and caught up with the joy of flying. I don't blame him for wanting to keep going higher. And then to plummet to the earth at the most exhilarating point ... it’s just doesn't seem fair," he repeated.

Severus set the book of myths down gently on the table and leaned forward to give Harry a lingering kiss. When he pulled away, he was wearing the soft smile he reserved for especially for him. "It seems to me a certain young man was guilty of the exact same infraction not so long ago."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "I know…but in the end, I had somebody to catch me, didn't I? Daedalus could only watch as his son fell to his death."

"You should be glad I'm not your father," Severus growled.

Harry laughed and kissed him again. "So glad." He reached a hand up to stroke Severus's cheek. Severus’s gaze softened at the touch.

This man, who had once brought him only anguish in the years past, had somehow given him hope for a future. The potion had worked so well that Harry no longer even needed his glasses. The day he removed the frames for the last time, the entire world came into focus – and the world, while eventually including all those whom Harry had naively left behind years ago, was centered on Severus Snape.

"Harry," Severus said, breaking him out of his musings, "You have no need to fear the sun."

Harry said nothing, only snuggled in closer in his lover's arms. No, with Severus by his side and his animals at his back, he was ready to face whatever the world had to give him.

~*~

 

**Author's Note:**

> The book Harry reads from is D'aulaire's Book of Greek Myths by Ingri D'Aulaire and Edgar Parin D'Aulaire.


End file.
